Past Lives, Future Bonds
by Vampire's Phoenix
Summary: Two childhood friends, Henry and Ian, go on a road trip that leads them to question everything they've ever believed in and throws their future into jeopardy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Inspired by the Herc episode, Yes Virginia...

Chapter One

The patrons of the bar chattered on mindlessly through the night. The normal endless calls for refills and the occasional laughter from some raucous joke did nothing to disturb the peaceful, normal air of the establishment. A TV was on, with some football game. A loud cheer went up as the favorite team scored a point. A couple of younger people, college kids, would go up on the small karaoke stage every so often, butchering some hip song that was popular at the time.

At around nine p.m. two men walked through the door, heading toward the booth closest to the stage. One of them carried a case, which he set down on the table while the other one headed onto the stage. The man with the case pulled out a guitar and followed his friend. He sat onto a stool that his friend had provided next to the machine and plugged it in to the karaoke machine. The one still standing conversed with his partner for a few seconds, and then flipped through the list of songs. Finally choosing one that his partner agreed with, he straightened and stood before the microphone.

The bar became a bit quieter than usual. It wasn't unusual for two people to do a song but no one really brought their own instrument very often. The man smiled at his friend then turned back to the audience. As the song started up, his friend began playing along, strumming his guitar with the song in perfect harmony. Now they had the audience's attention. The man at the microphone smiled and began his part of the duo.

_All day  
Staring at the ceiling  
Making friends with shadows on my wall  
All night  
Hearing voices telling me  
That I should get some sleep  
Because tomorrow might be good for something  
Hold on  
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a  
Breakdown  
I don't know why  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know, right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be  
Me  
Talking to myself in public  
Dodging glances on the train  
I know  
I know they've all been talking 'bout me  
I can hear them whisper  
And it makes me think there must be something wrong  
With me  
Out of all the hours thinking  
Somehow  
I've lost my mind  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be  
I been talking in my sleep  
Pretty soon they'll come to get me  
Yeah, they're taking me away  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me  
I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired  
I know, right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be  
Hey, how I used to be  
How I used to be, yeah  
Well I'm just a little unwell  
How I used to be  
How I used to be_

As the two men finished the song together, the bar erupted into cheers. There were shouts of 'Encore! Encore!' The singer waved to the crowd, his bright smile seemed to light up the whole bar. The one with the guitar flipped through the songs again. The bar settled down in anticipation. There was still some entertainment to go yet.

The two men finished four songs and left the stage, much to the disappointment of the crowd. The singer waved to the cheering audience and the two went back to their booth. They sat down and ordered drinks, the one putting his guitar back in its case. Their drinks came quickly, compliments of the establishment. The two men thanked the waitress and toasted one another. As the excitement settled down, the bar returned to its air of normalcy.

Observing them, the two men, in appearance, were drastically different. The singer was smaller, more compact that his six-foot muscular companion. Underneath the tight jeans and white t-shirt, one could see a fit, athletic body. His golden blonde hair fell just above his shoulder and his bright, sky blue eyes were framed by silver, wire-framed glasses.

His friend across from him with the guitar case was no less handsome. His tall, muscular body could be seen under the slightly baggier jeans, grey turtleneck and brown leather jacket. His honey brown hair reached his shoulders, framing his handsome face. His ice blue eyes shone with laughter as his friend related his final day before the break.

"I'm telling you, they weren't listening to a damn thing I was saying. They just sat there, like sheep! I think I heard snoring."

The larger man laughed. "Ian, it was the day before break. Naturally their minds were occupied with what they were going to do during break, not the French Revolution."

The blonde man, Ian, chuckled. "Yeah, well, you should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them that the lesson was going to be included in the next test. I think most of them will be spending break in the library."

Both men laughed. "Ian you are incorrigible." The larger man said.

"Come on Henry. Don't tell me you didn't have students dozing off in your class?"

"Yes I did." Henry said. "But unlike your class, mine was far enough ahead that we spent most of the day debating."

Ian huffed. "It's only one class that's behind. The rest were caught up and one was even further along than the others. Not all of us can be Anthro teachers you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry scowled at his friend, the glare not reaching his eyes.

Ian's eyes twinkled with mirth and good-natured humor. "Nothing, Henry; nothing at all."

Henry growled, reached over and slapped the blonde on his arm. Ian merely smirked and waved the hand away. But they both sported large smiles and their eyes shone with laughter and promised retribution. Then the two had an easy discussion of the plans for after break, their class schedules and such. They had decided to make this road trip during the break and so far were having a good time.

Both men taught at a small university in Illinois, Ian as a History teacher and Henry as a teacher in Anthropology. They both had a Masters in teaching, and a PH.D in their respective subjects. Ian was 36, two years older than his friend. The two men had met in college, immediately hitting it off. Anyone who saw the two together would guess that they had been friends all of their lives. Some who knew them better would sooner peg the two as brothers.

The two carried on through the night, having a couple drinks but not enough to get drunk. The talked about various things, from university life to the football game that was now back up. After being on the road for the past few days it was nice to just sit and relax.

A couple more people went up to use the karaoke machine but no one had captured the audience quite like the two men. They weren't even planning on having such a large audience the way they did. They had just come up with the idea and went with it. Henry had brought his guitar with him so the two men decided to stop at the bar and sing karaoke before finding a hotel.

The night began to wind down as it got later. Henry and Ian remained at the booth for quite some time, chatting away mostly about mundane and ordinary things. Every once and a while, laughter would erupt from a badly told joke. When it reached around midnight, only the two men and a few here and there were left in the bar. The waitress was now serving water and coffee. Ian ordered his black and Henry ordered only water. The man couldn't stand coffee. Occasionally she flirted with either one of the two men, especially when the blonde flirted back. The big one however, seemed to be shy and even glared good naturally at his friend.

Henry sat a little straighter in his chair when Ian yawned in the middle of his sentence. The shadows under the blonde's eyes and the lines of exhaustion were more pronounced than they had been before. The man was exhausted. Henry frowned at the posture Ian suddenly adopted. He knew that posture; it was the one Ian used every time he wanted to hide something so Henry wouldn't worry. Well, he wasn't buying it this time.

Henry leaned forward, dropping his voice to a lower tone. "Ian, what's wrong?"

Ian blinked a few times in surprise then shook his head. "Nothing Henry, I'm just fine."

Henry snorted. "I haven't seen you look like this since college. You look like you haven't slept properly in days."

"I'm fine Henry. It's nothing you need to-" Ian was cut off by the look on Henry's face. His jaw was set in determination and his eyes pierced Ian with a look that clearly said, 'you will tell me or I will get it out of you one way or another.' Henry saved that look for when Ian was being particularly difficult. Ian sighed in resignation and leaned forward on the table, head in one hand. It was just a stupid dream, and not something he wanted to worry his friend over, right?

So then why was he so bothered by this?

Ian schooled himself into his best impassive face. "Henry, it is just stress." He gave a bit of a dramatic sigh he hoped Henry would buy. "I was staying up late to do work a few days before break. It's my fault. This road trip is actually doing me some good, though sleeping in a car isn't exactly comfortable either." Ian laughed, but Henry noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Henry narrowed his eyes at his friend. There was something more to it, Henry was sure. But in response to Henry's glare, Ian countered with impassiveness and an innocent look that Henry didn't buy one bit. But he also saw the gleam of determination in his friend's eyes and knew that further probing would do no good. Ian could be stubborn to the point of ridiculousness, Henry knew. So he resigned, however reluctantly, that Ian would have to tell him on his own.

"Alright, but let's stop at that motel we saw a while back." He would weasel it out of him later.

Ian grinned. He knew why Henry was agreeing. He thought he would be able to weasel it out of Ian later... Just shows how much he knew. But the idea of a hotel sounded good to Ian. He needed a break from the road. A moving car wasn't the best place to get some sleep. He agreed readily to the hotel.

Since it was so late the two men decided to immediately retire. Henry could tell that his blonde friend was exhausted and needed the rest. The two traded a few barbs and jokes before turning in.

Henry was worried about Ian. He saw the way the man had practically collapsed on the hotel bed, yet he almost seemed reluctant to sleep. Maybe it was a nightmare that was bothering Ian? But Henry doubted it. Somehow he could tell it was something deeper than that. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

Ever since Henry could remember he had always had a sort of sixth sense. He could tell when people were lying to him or deceiving him and it was especially powerful where Ian was concerned. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it at this point.

Henry thought for a moment on what could be bothering his best friend. Was it a nightmare? Odd dreams? For a moment, Henry suddenly felt an urge to seriously talk with Ian, but both men were exhausted. With a reluctant sigh he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Ian, however, was having a little more difficulty sleeping than his friend. He mentally scolded himself. He was being scared over a stupid dream. Of course, every time the nightmare occurred he awoke screaming and drenched in sweat. He could never really remember the nightmare. All he could remember of it was fire, a demon in black robes, a dagger and dying. He remembered an endless abyss, a darkness swallowing his very soul.

His other dreams hadn't been that bad. Sometimes they were filled with monsters and horrible looking beasts, but those dreams were different. In those dreams he would see himself, fighting those creatures.

Ian wasn't a lazy man. He worked out regularly with Henry. Ian could defend himself if he needed to, but Ian could never see himself pulling off the moves he saw in his dreams. He saw them all the time in movies and on TV, but he was a college professor, not an athlete. He just never had the desire to learn basic martial arts.

Most of the time though, there would be someone with him, fighting by his side in his dreams. Ian could never get a good look at his face but the strange man felt very familiar. In all the years he had had these kinds of dreams, not once had Ian been able to figure out his identity. It was always just out of reach.

He saw himself fighting, at first, normal men. Normally ten or fifteen of they would surround him. But he would easily take care of all of them with minimal injuries, occasionally getting hit on the head with a stool or a chair.

Then there were the monsters. They were like apparitions out of mythology books. He saw hydras and Minotaurs, huge snakes rising up out of the sea. He always felt fear when he fought them, but it was nothing compared to the nightmare. In these dreams he would fight regardless instead of wanting to run in fear. It was in these ones where he most often saw the other man fighting with him. He never saw the face, but Ian had the feeling that he knew the man.

If anything, the dreams were entertaining, fun. He thought about them often, and was even thinking of writing down some of those fights and adventures. The only thing stopping him were the names of the people he saw in his dreams. Sure, he could make up names but it didn't seem right. The two men, himself and the mystery man, had names, he was sure of it.

He never told Henry though. For some reason, he felt as if he shouldn't. But Ian frowned at that thought; it wasn't as if Henry would call him crazy and lock him up somewhere. The two of them were too close; Henry would believe him and Ian knew it. But the thought still made him uncomfortable. Many times he thought that he should just tell Henry what was going on; tell Henry about the strange dreams of himself as a monster-slaying warrior and the nightmare that always left a cold feeling in his very soul and scared him beyond belief.

But secretly, Ian was a little ashamed that he was letting a nightmare intimidate him. Dreams were nothing more than manifestation of the subconscious. He was being childish and feared being told so from his best friend.

He thought back to the nightmare. He started having it two days before they decided to go on the road trip. It was beyond him why his subconscious would dream up such a horrifying thing. It was natural to have dreams of one dying, but that dream frightened more than any other nightmare he had ever had. But as Ian thought about it, the thing about it that made him miserable the most, was the image of the man that was in his other dreams. He remembered lying in the man's arms as he died. He couldn't see the face, but he felt the profound sadness as Ian died. That he was making this man miserable, that he was breaking his heart with his death, frightened Ian more than anything else in the dream.

Ian signed and flopped around on the bed, reveling in the soft pillows and blankets. Sleeping in a car for days was making him feel stiff. For a moment, he had the oddest thought that it was paradise compared to sleeping on the ground.

Ian paused to reflect a bit on their destination. They had left for break three days ago and had a week of break left. The two of them had decided to just go for a drive somewhere. They had no particular destination in mind. They were just driving.

Ian sat up as a sudden thought just hit him. Come to think of it, neither man knew where they were going. Neither one of them had even thought of where and when they would begin to turn back so they could get back to the college on time for classes.

Ian ran a hand through his curly blonde hair then turned to stare at the other bed, where Henry lay. The other man was in a deep sleep and was snoring slightly. Ian shook his head and laid back down, turning on his side to face the window. He thought it was very odd. The plan to drive was spontaneous. There had been no plans or preparation. They had just packed a duffel bag with clothes, personal items and laptops. Ian had even brought along his guitar as an afterthought. They had no idea where they were going. Hell, Ian didn't even know if they were in Colorado anymore and he had been the one driving for the last half hour before they stopped at the bar!

As Ian succumbed to sleep he resolved to talk about this with Henry seriously tomorrow. He didn't understand what was going on and it was bothering him. Tomorrow he would talk to the other man and discuss the rest of their trip. Oddly enough, the fact that they had just been driving with no direction didn't seem to bother Ian. On the contrary, he felt as if they were heading in the right direction. Ian groaned and fell asleep. He didn't want to think on this further until tomorrow. He just hoped the dreams would stay away tonight.

My other Herc fic. Read and review please!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Inspired by the Herc episode, Yes Virginia...Please read and review!

Chapter Two

They checked out of the hotel the next morning and stopped at a diner for some breakfast. Henry was glad to see that the sleep had done Ian some good. Some of the exhaustion was gone and he looked brighter. Ian's smile always seemed to light up everything else around him.

Henry treasured his friend's smile and his seemingly endless supply of energy. The man could hardly keep still most of the time. Henry had once sat in one of Ian's classes just for the heck of it. He had nothing to do and he had something he wanted to discuss with the man later.

Henry smiled as he remembered the way Ian seemed to bounce off of the walls of the classroom. He was energetic and vibrant; he moved with his words and interacted with the students. His students liked his bubbly, cheery personality and the man had gained a few female admirers. Ian was a bit of a ladies man, but he never got too serious with anybody. He once said that harmless flirtation was one thing; he wouldn't get into a relationship, however, with someone he didn't care seriously about.

Many years back, both men had been married. Unfortunately both of their wives and Henry's son had died in a car accident three years after the marriages. They had double weddings, and a month later Adam had been born. When Adam had been born, Henry had loved the child as his own.

Like Henry, Lily's family had been killed when she was young. Her uncle, who was an abusive drunk, had raised her. It was a dark time in Lily's life, and natural to one in her situation she had made decisions and took actions that she later came to regret. When she had discovered that she was pregnant, she left the home of her uncle, who had not cared either way. She had moved to Illinois, where she had befriended Francine. It was through Francine that she had met Henry. But it had taken some time for Lily to accept that Henry had loved her for her, and not out of pity for her situation. It had taken some effort, but their efforts had paid off. Henry was not in the habit of judging people based on their past.

For Henry, it had been love at first site. Lily was a stubborn, strong, independent woman who drew Henry to her like a child to a candy store. She regretted the actions of her youth and was determined to make a life for her and her child. Henry had loved her for her strong will, her determination, and her amazing capacity to love. When they had married, Henry had felt like his life was finally complete. He had the thing he had wanted for his entire life, a family.

On the day of the accident, their wives had scheduled doctor's appointments together. Afterwards, mere moments before the accident, Lily had called Henry from the doctor's office. Both she and Francine had been pregnant.

At first, Henry thought that the grief would drive him insane. When he had first gotten the phone call from Lily, he thought his heart was going to explode with joy. Ian, he knew, was even more excited than his friend. It was going to be Ian's first child and the blonde had been ecstatic. When he had gotten the wonderful news, he could barely contain his excitement. He was bouncing off of the walls and babbling a thousand words a second.

Then, as the two men were discussing going out for a celebration, there was a knock at the door. When he had identified himself to the police, they had delivered the news. He felt as though his whole world had come crashing down around him. He was barely aware of Ian's concerned questions, even less so as Ian spoke to the authorities and asked frantic questions. The memory of Ian driving them both to the hospital was blurry and unfocused. The only thing Henry remembered about the encounter was seeing the dead bodies of his wife and child, knowing that his wife carried a second.

After the shock had passed, Henry had been half insane with rage and grief. Both men had taken a sabbatical from teaching due to personal loss. Henry had gone down a path of self-destruction, trying to drown the misery and pain in alcohol. More than once Ian had to drag his friend out of a bar or club to prevent a riot as the bigger man attempted to vent his pain and anger.

It was two weeks after the accident that Henry had a revelation. It had come to him in the middle of the night, as he stumbled out of his room toward the bathroom. He still lived in the apartment he had shared with Lily, though he had been thinking of selling. On his way back to his room he had spied Ian, sprawled out asleep on his couch. Henry remembered that Ian had once again dragged Henry home, had taken care of him. Henry figured that Ian must have passed out from sheer exhaustion.

That's when it hit Henry. Ian had been taking care of him this entire time, not taking time for himself to mourn his own loss. Ian had put aside his own needs to take care of Henry. With a pang of revulsion, Henry realized that he had not given his best friend a chance to mourn

The revelation hit Henry like a ton of bricks. Here he was, acting like a drunken ass while his best friend was practically killing himself to make sure Henry didn't kill himself. Henry had been stunned. The revelation forced him to take a look at how despondent his life had become. He should have been mourning for his family, treating their memory with honor. He especially shouldn't have been treating his best friend like he had been. With a pang of horror, he realized that he had been acting like the 'no good hoyden' his foster family always saw him as.

The next morning Henry had confronted Ian, all but begging his best friend for forgiveness at his behavior. Ian had assured his friend that there was nothing to forgive. There had been a heartbreaking, mournful session as the two finally vented their grief and sadness at their loss. There had been many tears and sobbing confessions as the healing finally began for the both of them.

Thinking back on the memories, the man was beyond grateful for Ian's friendship and support. He knew that Ian appreciated the support Henry gave as well. Thanks to their friendship, they were able to get past the grief and move on. They grew sad every once and a while, such as on a birthday or anniversary. But both men could mourn and go on, like they knew their loved ones wanted. Henry was more grateful than ever for Ian's presence in his life.

Henry loved Ian. Not in a romantic fashion, not that he had anything against that. But somehow, Ian filled a void that Henry carried around for as long as he could remember. When the two men met in college, it was as if something inside Henry had sung, vibrated almost. He found himself immediately drawn to the energetic blonde and as they bonded, for the first time in his life, Henry felt that void in his heart fill.

Henry had loved his wife and son dearly there was no doubt about that. But Ian had always meant something more to the younger man that Henry could not easily explain. Ian was a kind, sympathetic individual who always put the needs of Henry and others above his own. He was Henry's best friend; he had always thought of the blonde as a brother, more real to him than the ones from his foster family. Luckily for them both of their wives had been able to understand and appreciate how the two men felt for one another, how close they were. For that, they had loved their wives all the more.

As he watched Ian dive into his breakfast, Henry couldn't help but chuckle. For his part, Ian loved the fact that he could always be himself around Henry and vise versa. Henry never felt that he had to pretend to be someone else around his best friend. For a moment Henry thought back to his foster family. If Henry ever had the mind to go back to his foster parents and introduce them to Ian, the bigger man was sure they would have a heart attack. Henry wondered if that would be before or after they would call the police.

When he was a baby Henry's parents were killed when their home burned down. He was shunted around before he was placed with his foster family at age seven. Henry never felt as if he was one of them. His foster parents were well-bred people, with connections high up in the social ladder. Henry never felt as if they really had tried to help him feel as though he belonged. He always felt like the outsider, a houseguest who had a prolonged stay.

It had become obvious to Henry as he got older that his foster parents were the sort of people who took in "poor, unfortunate souls" like him to look better in the eyes of their well esteemed peers. He trusted his senses when it came to people. He'd found that people gave off signs that could be so easily missed, but somehow he always saw them...the wrinkle across the forehead that hid a frown...the tightness around the mouth that signified disapproval…the soft snort and barely stiffened posture that indicated disagreement. Some people called it sixth sense, but Henry knew it was simply extraordinary observation and understanding of others. Maybe that was in itself a sixth sense, something he had only recently come to realize.

When Henry turned 18 and was released from his foster family, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been accepted into the college of his choice with a full ride scholarship and had a great job and access to a trust fund, which would provide him with money for a good apartment later on, and none if it was connected in anyway to his foster family. Life was good. In the middle of his freshman year of college, it got even better.

*******Flashback

_It was the middle of January and it had snowed hard for the past few days. Henry was in the college library, getting in as much work as he could. He certainly couldn't do it at his dorm. His roommate was loud, abrasive and reminded Henry of one of his foster brothers, Greg. _

_Greg was the oldest of his foster brothers, and the meanest. All three of his foster brothers were nasty, cruel little boys who always took pleasure in their greatest pastime, which was picking on Henry. They themselves were not foster children, and took great pleasure of reminding Henry of that fact. In public they would show themselves off as the well behaved, proper children a family should have and at home they would into rude, loud, annoying little spoiled brats who got everything they wanted from their parents and tormented Henry to no end. _

_ Henry had no friends within the social circle his foster family was a part of. He was quiet, modest and always had his nose in a book. He had no real social skills or the attitude necessary for the game. While his peers gossiped and pointed fingers, he kept his own nose clean and out of other people's business. This moral highroad approach to life had given his foster brothers all the ammunition they needed. There was rarely any physical harm that couldn't be passed off as a 'boys will be boys' mentality when his foster brothers weren't being scolded for their 'deplorable actions' and 'behavior unfitting proper children.' _

_Of course Henry was duly punished for 'setting a bad example' and taking their kindness and generosity for granted when they had given him such a good home, shown him what a proper family should be which would be something he would never truly know, since he was nothing better than a common hoyden, a bastard child who should be glad that they had accepted him into their home when they could have tossed him onto the street, where he truly belonged. They of course, didn't say that last part out loud, but Henry could read between lines. _

_Though Henry felt no love or affection from this family, he could never find any real, solid grounds so he could request a change. He was in a good, clean household that provided for him and he was getting an education. Was it really worth the effort to go through so much paperwork, to transfer out of a home most children would fight to get, just because he was a little unhappy? So when court time came around he plastered on the appearance that he was a happy, settled little boy. _

_ In hindsight Henry realized that if he had requested a change, if he had put up a good enough front, he probably would have been taken out of the place. But he was out now, and away from Greg and his other foster brothers. His roommate wasn't quite as bad as Greg, but he was certainly annoying. He tried his best to ignore his roommate and avoided him whenever possible._

_ Henry was sitting near the back among the shelves, away from any distractions. He had his Calculus book open and was trying to make sense of the jumbled numbers and odd squiggly lines that he was sure someone had doodled across the book. He was ready to slam the book closed and use it to bash his brains out. _

_ Then someone laid a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned to face the person behind him, and was met with a slightly older blonde young man, who smiled at him. His blue eyes were alight with mischief and Henry knew instinctively that the blonde had made him jump on purpose. Surprisingly, this only made Henry smile in return. _

_ The blonde leaned over Henry's shoulder to peer at his math book. "Calculus, huh? Sucks don't it?" The blonde sat in the seat next to Henry, casually leaning back as though it were his place. Henry nodded, staring at the blonde. He didn't like being interrupted when he studied, but he didn't object to the presence of this strange young man. _

_ Henry gave a small laugh. "I'll say. Did they write this thing in English? If not, then I need the pocket translator."_

_ The blonde laughed and Henry found himself laughing with him. The blonde's laughter wasn't derogatory, or forced just to make Henry feel better. It was loud and infectious, and Henry's heart soared at the genuine humor and the sincere twinkle of mirth and acceptance in the blonde's sky blue eyes. _

_ When they both calmed down, the blonde sat up in his chair. He still had the smile, and Henry noticed that there was no force involved at that his eyes shone with a genuine love of life. "So," the blonde said. "You want some help? I did okay in Calculus. I'm no math whiz but I think I can get you at least B material. I'm Ian." He held his hand out to Henry to shake and Henry gladly accepted. His heart warmed at the offer and the honest kindness that emanated from Ian. For the first time, Henry felt a sense of friendship…and love. As Henry shook Ian's hand, he knew deep down that the two of them were going to be close. His senses, his "sixth sense" seemed to all but scream it at him. _

***********************************

Unlike the majority of the people Henry had known in his life, courtesy of his foster family, Ian was unconcerned with social graces and the latest, embarrassing gossip. Unlike Greg, Carlton and Bentley, his foster brothers, Ian took no pleasure in tormenting the lives of others. Instead, Ian preferred to lighten up people's lives, help them in a time of need. He was the first to jump and provide a friend to someone who needed one. His bright, cheery personality was infectious and drew Henry like a dehydrated man to water. That Ian was a modest, upstanding person with a sense of justice so similar to Henry's own only drew him in more. Ian's "torments" consisted of practical jokes and pranks and when Ian laughed, it only made people want to laugh with him. In Ian, Henry had found the brother he had always wanted.

Henry sipped his orange juice. "So, I figure I'll drive for the first couple of hours, and then you can take over?"

Ian paused in mid sip of his coffee. His eyes widened as he remembered the small revelation he had last night. He quickly set down his mug and sat up straight in his chair. "Henry, we have to talk about this trip."

Henry frowned. "Why? Ian what's wrong?"

Ian leaned over and stared directly into Henry's ice blue eyes. "Where exactly are we going? More to the point, where are we?"

Henry opened his mouth to answer and froze. He frantically searched his mind for the answers that he knew should be there. Seeing his companion's confusion, Ian pressed on. "Did we ever plan anything out, like when we were going to turn back? How far are we planning to drive? Do we even have a destination? We just suddenly decided to take a road trip without even planning anything? Since when have you ever done anything without planning every last detail? Since when have I ever done that?"

The two men sat in silence. Henry's mind searched for answers to Ian's questions now that he found himself asking the same things. Ian was right. The two of them just randomly decided to take a road trip, threw some things in a duffle bag and took off. Neither of them had any clue where they were going.

Henry's thinking was mostly intuition, guided by something beyond logical reason. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the lack of preparation or even destination didn't matter. That somehow he knew where they were going.

Henry took a deep breath and hoped to high heaven that Ian wouldn't think he was crazy. "Ian, throughout this thing, this random road trip, did you ever get the feeling that, well, that we do have a destination? That we're not randomly driving all over the country? That, that we, I don't know, that-"

"That we do know where we're going? That we're being guided somewhere?" Ian interrupted softly. He had this same thought last night. Henry nodded, relieved that Ian was thinking along the same lines. They often communicated with each other with their eyes and subtle movements and signals. They didn't always need words to convey their thoughts and feelings. It was second nature to them, almost as if they could read each other's thoughts.

As their eyes met from across the small diner table, they conveyed the same thought: 'What do we do now?'

Ian shifted in his seat, and then grinned at Henry as the bigger man inadvertently did the same thing. Henry glared, but smirked right back. Ian sighed then picked at his remaining breakfast with his fork. "As crazy as this may sound, I think we should keep going." A quick glance up at Henry told him that the bigger man seemed to agree with him, or at least showed no sign that he thought Ian was crazy. "This pull or whatever odd feeling that we're getting, I can't help but feel that it's leading us to where we are supposed to be. Wherever we're going, we're supposed to be there."

Henry said nothing, merely nodded. As right as Ian's words sounded, somewhere in the back of Henry's mind a voice told him that this entire thing was crazy! The same voice nudged at him to grab Ian, throw him into the old mustang parked out front and drive them back to Illinois full throttle.

But he forced that small annoyance to shut up. Henry felt the same way that Ian did, now that he acknowledged it. Wherever they were going, it was where they needed to be. Henry couldn't explain the strange feeling or the pull either, but he couldn't help but trust it. It was as simple as that. This was too right, and Henry whole-heartedly believed that they were doing the right thing.

Henry picked up the tab and threw a few dollars on the table. He smirked at his best friend. "So, I'll drive until lunch?"

Ian returned the smirk and the two men left the small diner, climbed into Henry's mustang and drove off.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Inspired by the Herc episode, Yes Virginia...Please read and review!

Chapter Three

_Henry watched, helpless, as the dagger flew past him toward the dais. His eyes widened in fear, not for himself, but for the intended target. "Nebula!" He shouted, trying to warn the victim, but he was too late. The woman from the altar had spun around, eyes wide in fear. The blonde man next to her screamed in denial, pushed her aside and jumped in front of her._

_ Fear turned to horror as Henry watched the dagger slam itself into the chest of his best friend, the force sending him flying onto the dais. Then horror turned to cold, absolute rage and fury. He spun around, facing the demon that had used its powers to fling the dagger at its victim. His anger grew when he saw the demon's arrogant smirk. He unleashed that fury onto his opponent. He held back nothing; he embraced the darkness and the madness within him, used it to power him. The demon shrieked with unholy fury as Henry kicked it back into the flames, extinguishing them along with the demon. The flames died away and the sun returned, though he would find no comfort in its warm rays as they flooded the temple with light._

_ Time slowed as he ran to the dais. His soul shrieked in terror at the sight of his best friend with a dagger in his chest. He gently cradled the blonde in his arms, praying to any deity that was listening that this was only some cruel, sick hallucination. "Hang in there buddy."_

_ "Can't" The single word was taking a great strain on his friend's body. _

_ But Henry was in denial. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. His best friend, his brother, was not dying in his arms! "Sure you can. Come on." But he was fooling himself. The dagger had pierced his heart, cleaving it in two. No one could help him now._

_ The blonde in his arms stared at Henry, his eyes not full of fear or despair, but of love for the larger man holding him and a weary acceptance his friend did not possess. Then, to Henry's shock the face of the blonde began to change. It shifted and became more defined until the face of Ian stared back at him. Henry's soul felt as though it was being torn to tiny shreds. "Hercules." The word reflected the emotions in the blonde's eyes. It was like a sharp stab to Henry's heart. Then the eyes dimmed and the blonde slumped in Henry's arms. _

_ Henry stared at the limp body in disbelief. This was not happening. This. Was. Not. Happening. He gave the body a slight shake. "Come on, don't you give up on me." Ian's body was unresponsive. In his desperation he shook harder, almost violently. "COME ON, DON'T YOU GIVE UP ON ME!"_

_ But it was no use. Ian was dead._

"NO!"

Henry shot straight up in bed, sweating profusely and shaking. His skin was a deathly pale and he clutched his sheets like a drowning man clutched a life raft. Tears flowed down his face and he was close to hyperventilating. He was shaking badly, trying desperately to control his breathing. With effort, he unclenched his hands from the sheets and wiped his face of sweat and tears. But he found that he could not stop shaking. He could not stop images of the nightmare from replaying over and over in his mind.

He flew the covers of the hotel bed aside and stalked to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. He looked up at the mirror. He had definitely seen better days. That was absolutely the worst nightmare he had ever had. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked exhausted.

Try as he might to push the nightmare out of his mind, it kept flashing over and over again. He closed his eyes tightly to fight back the tears that threatened to fall once again. The temple, the demon, Ian dying in his arms, all of it threatened to send him over the edge again. With a groan, he looked at his reflection again. He looked as bad as Ian did all those nights ago back in the karaoke bar. He tried to concentrate on that night, anything to stop the images of the nightmare.

Then Henry straightened as details from the memory entered his mind. Ian was looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. Henry remembered that from the late study nights during college, when the blonde only got by on snatches of sleep and lots of coffee. That night after they had gotten to the hotel Ian had practically collapsed on the bed. But Henry had noticed something in Ian's eyes. It was almost as if he had been afraid to go to sleep.

Henry shook his head. He was reading way too much into this. The nightmare had him spooked and he was not thinking clearly. But the image of Ian dying in Henry's arms would not go away. It replayed over and over again, torturing Henry. To see those bight eyes, so full of love and life, dim was an abomination. To see that boundless energy fade away was felt so wrong. The limp form he had held should have been bouncing off the walls and the cheerful voice should have been babbling until Henry's ears threatened to fall off.

Henry walked back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, eying it dubiously. After that nightmare, he sure wasn't tired anymore and in no hurry to go back to sleep. Again, the memory of the karaoke bar and the motel afterwards flashed in Henry's mind. As Henry contemplated the possible reasons for Ian's reluctance, he felt a chill pass through him. No, this was impossible. It couldn't be. But seeing Ian in his dreams…

Suddenly Henry straightened as a revelation occurred to him. The man from the nightmare had been the companion from his other dreams, the ones where he was a monster-fighting hero. Ian had been the blonde man in the nightmare, the one who died in his arms.

For as long as Henry could remember, he had odd, fantasy dreams. They had started when he was younger, when he had dreams of being a hero, fighting monsters out of storybooks. They were normal dreams for a child. But as Henry grew older, the dreams became more detailed and emotional. He was a hero, fighting monsters and bandits, and warlords. He faced beings that looked like ordinary people and then threw fireballs at him! The creatures he encountered were frightening, like something out of his mythology textbooks. But he fought them regardless.

They were fantastical, radical dreams, but also possessed a familiar quality. But it had always struck Henry as silly. Never could he see himself doing anything like he saw in his dreams. The only thing that came close, was the fact that in his dreams Henry helped people, making their lives better any way he could. It was why he had become a teacher, to use his experience to guide and help others.

But in these dreams, there was always someone with him. A smaller, blonde man who fought by Henry's side no matter the creature or obstacle. He had seemed so familiar to Henry, his identity just out of reach. But always Henry felt the feelings of friendship, loyalty, and love radiating from this man.

They were the same feelings Henry got from Ian.

As Henry recalled the dreams one by one, as they passed through his mind, the face of the blonde became clearer and more defined until Ian stared back at him in every dream. Henry's jaw had dropped. In each and every one of his dreams, Henry saw Ian by his side in leather, a purple patchwork vest and carrying a sword.

This was insane. Was Henry going crazy? No, this was something else. He could feel it. Ian was the companion in his dreams, the one who fought by his side as a fellow warrior and hero. Ian was also the one who died in his arms in the nightmare. Ian had looked like he had not slept for several days, and seemed afraid to go to sleep. Was it possible? Was Ian having the same nightmare? If that was so, then that would mean Ian had been having it for several days, something Henry did not want to think about. Having once was bad enough. To have it several times…it sent a violent shudder through Henry's very soul.

Ian was having this nightmare too. Henry was sure of it. He was a good judge of people, especially when it came to Ian. If Ian was having this nightmare, was he having the same dreams as Henry too? Henry had never discussed the dreams with anyone. He had wanted to write them down, but past experience taught him to keep such things to himself. His foster brothers were not the type to share this sort of thing with.

Further, he was sure this was connected to the pull they felt, the one that led them to take this road trip and that guided them in the right direction. He wasn't sure how he knew, or even how it was all connected. It was like having a bunch of puzzle pieces, only none of them fit together. Henry had too many questions and no answers. But if Ian was having the dreams, having this nightmare, then Henry had to know. It was a vital piece, one that would make some sense of the picture.

He had decided. He would ask Ian about the dreams and the nightmare. He wasn't sure how to do it without Ian clamming up and withdrawing from him like Henry knew he would. He would have to do it while they were on the road, so Ian couldn't run away from him. He had to know if Ian had the dreams. He had to know how the puzzle pieces fit together. Henry was not a man who believed in coincidences. This was all connected; he only had to figure out how.

Henry ran his hands though his grimy hair and stood. He gathered his duffle bag, which lay by his bed. He rifled through it and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Then he went back into the bathroom and climbed into a shower. He sighed in relief as the hot water washed over him, relaxing his sore, tired muscles and cleaning the sweat and grime from his body. After rinsing he merely stood under the hot spray, letting the water relax him. When the water began to grow cold, he stepped out and dried himself off. He shoved on a pair of jeans and his favorite green sweater. Then he walked back into the main room, shoving his t-shirt and boxers that he had slept in into a plastic bag, then shoving that into hi duffle. Then he pulled out a worn paperback copy of _The Vampire Lestat_ from one of the side pockets, and sat down in one of the plush armchairs that decorated the room, switching on the lamp at the adjoining table.

Anne Rice was his guilty pleasure, something he would never admit to Ian no matter how many times the blonde would goad him about it. Pushing all of the doubts, dreams and relating thoughts from his mind, he planted himself firmly in Anne Rice's world of vampires and Lestat's savage garden. He was unaware of anything else as he immersed himself in the dark, savage world of Lestat, until he was jolted back to awareness by a sharp knocking at the door.

"Henry!" Sang Ian's voice. "Henry! Time to get up! Come on! We got to go get some breakfast! Wakey, wakey Henry!"

Henry smiled, putting down the book and walking to the door. Ian was only knocking now at irregular, odd beats and intervals Henry surmised that was for his own amusement…or to annoy the hell out of Henry.

He opened the door, greeted with Ian's bright smile. His own duffle bag was by his feet, and he was dressed in jeans, his Hard Rock Café t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. The still damp hair told Henry that the man had just gotten out of the shower.

"Well, look who decided to join us in the land of the living! About time! Hurry up. We got to get breakfast. I'm starving!" With that, Ian picked up his duffle and trotted off down the hall. Henry smiled and shook his head. He put his book back into his duffle, shoved on his boots, picked up his bag and followed Ian down the hall. They ate in the car, as there was no diner to go to. Their conversation was light and easy, as if nothing weighed on their minds.

But Henry was tense and anxious. He had no idea how to broach the subject to Ian. He knew Ian better than he knew himself. Ian would withdraw into himself or change the subject if he was uncomfortable with the topic. As they drove along, Henry was contemplating how to bring up the subject without Ian running away. Meanwhile, he laughed at Ian's poor jokes and carried on the light conversation.

PleaseR&R. A big thanx to all my readers, no matter how few you may be. I'll try to update my other stories asap.


	4. Chapter 4

Looking for jobs sucks. Still no luck. *Sigh* I will try to update my other fics as soon as I find my muse...*takes out the mouse traps*.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter Four

As Ian told another joke, inwardly he was frantic. He had had the nightmare again last night. It was ten times worse than it had ever been. He had raced to the bathroom to throw up. When Henry had not barged in, asking if Ian was all right and doting on him like a mother hen, he had been relieved. He hadn't wanted Henry to see him like that.

The nightmare had played out the same as it always did. He was in the temple, with the demon in black and the wall of fire. He died in the arms of the companion who had fought beside him.

But at this point, it had changed. The face above him had shifted and changed, until Henry's face stared back at him. His soul had screamed in agony at the pure misery in Henry's heart, reflected through his tear filled eyes. That he was causing his best friend so much misery was worse than the abyss that followed.

After he had washed his mouth clear of foulness, he had gone back to slump in one of the chairs that decorated his room. He had had no desire to return to bed. He could not get the heart breaking vision of Henry out of his mind. Several times he had to wipe tears from his face and stop himself from racing back to the bathroom.

He couldn't help but dwell on the nightmare, how Henry had been the one who held him as he died. Then the revelation had hit him. Henry was the companion from the nightmare! The companion from his nightmare was also the one from his dreams. Henry was also the one from his dreams as the warrior who fought by his side. The faceless, nameless companion had turned into Henry, Henry who fought by his side and gave him companionship. The feelings of love, and friendship he had always felt from this person had come from Henry.

In retrospect, it wasn't too surprising a find. Ian had always felt something special where Henry was concerned. The younger man had always been like a brother to Ian. Whenever Ian needed some one to lean on, Henry was always there. The first time he had met Henry in college, Ian could immediately tell that the young man was special. When they had met for the first time, when their eyes locked in mutual laughter and mirth, Ian had immediately formed a connection with the young man.

Henry was the brother Ian had always wanted but never had. Like Henry, Ian had grown up in the foster system. But Ian had been sent to numerous foster families until being settled at thirteen. By that time, Ian had been a closed off individual. He had never gotten along with his foster parents or siblings and had been known for getting into fights with them. Ian had never broken the law, but he was pegged as a troublemaker. He was made fun of for his size by his older siblings, something he took a grave offense to.

When Ian had finally been settled in his foster family, he had already been tagged as a "troubled child". He had six foster siblings, four of which were older than him. Like his previous siblings, they teased him about his size and tried to bully him. Ian always defended himself, protecting his two younger foster sisters from the older brothers.

Ian had adored his younger sisters and still kept in touch with them. But his brothers had been a constant source of annoyance and misery. His foster parents had tried to give him counseling, but he never took it seriously. The counselors had always tried to get him to talk about "abandonment issues" and "feelings of isolation and rejection." They always made Ian mad.

When they tried to get him to talk about how his parents abandoned him, Ian countered with the fact that they had died when he was a baby. He felt no abandonment. Sure, he was upset about it but it had been when he was a baby. He had no real connection to people whose names he never knew. It wasn't as though they had intended to die. He didn't feel abandoned, just lonely.

When they tried to get to the root of why "he acted out," Ian countered with the simple fact that he was learning to live in the real world and that he had the right to defend himself from those who wished to harm him. What had really mad him made was all of the attempts to try to "read his inner psyche" and all of the child psychology mumbo jumbo.

When Ian had left his foster home, he had been relieved. He had kept in contact with his foster sisters when he went to college. His brothers he had never heard from again, except two years after he left when one was arrested for rape. He had immediately called his sisters to be sure that it wasn't them and nearly collapsed with relief when he was told that they were okay.

Then Ian had met Henry and it was as though his soul had sung. It was originally Henry's innocence had drawn Ian to him. Ian was pretty perceptive when it came to reading people. He remembered that Henry radiated a sense of innocence and kindness that reminded Ian of his sisters.

*******Flashback

_"Now where is that damn book? The computer said it would be here." Ian huffed in annoyance. "Damn system. I've been waiting almost all year for that book."_

_ The blonde removed his silver, wire framed glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. It was late and freezing cold. The library would be closing in an hour and he was peeved. He had been waiting for that book for ages. He didn't really need it for class, he just wanted to read it. Ian had always had a fascination with mythology and this book intrigued him. _

_ Shaking his head in resignation, he was about to leave when something caught his eye. In back the shelves, at one of the seldom-used tables, was a young man fervently studying. This intrigued Ian. It was the middle of January and thus the start of the term. Barely anyone used the library around this time, even juniors like Ian. As far as Ian knew, there had been no one else in here besides the staff. _

_ Ian crept closer, careful to not make his presence known. In his experience, people who hid in the back like this often wanted to be alone when they studied. Ian didn't blame the kid. He couldn't study in his dorm room. Though he had an apartment to himself, his neighbors made it impossible to study sometimes._

_ As he neared the young man, he saw the open Calculus book and the various crumpled notebook papers. The young man was obviously frustrated and having problems. Ian could relate. Math was never his best subject. This young man was a freshman, from the look of his books. His eyes brightened when he saw the 'Introduction to Cultural Anthropology' book in the young man's open bag. Ian had taken that class as a freshman for his History major._

_The young man groaned and slumped in his chair. Ian gave a small smile. Math was not this young man's forte. When the young man leaned back in the chair, Ian caught a glimpse of the young man's ice blue eyes. For a moment, he was reminded of his foster sisters, Megan and Gloria, who shared the same eyes as this young man. Ian moved a little closer to him. There was an innocence radiating from the young man, a calm and peaceful feeling that drew Ian in. As he stared at the young man, he felt protective instincts kick, similar to when he defended his sisters from his foster brothers. _

_ He decided to make himself known to this young man, if only to help him out with his math. He snuck up behind the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder. The young man jumped and turned, meeting Ian's smiling eyes. As Ian's eyes locked with the ice blue ones, something in him had vibrated. When the young man smiled back at him instead of getting mad, the feeling intensified. _

_ He made a show of looking at the book. "Calculus huh? Sucks don't it?" He didn't want the young man to know he had been watching him. Then he took a seat beside the young man as though he belonged there. Strangely enough, he felt as though he did. The young man stared at him and then nodded. _

_ He gave a small laugh. "I'll say. Did they write this thing in English? If not, then I need the pocket translator."_

_ Ian laughed at the joke and the young man was laughing with him. The young man was hesitant at first, but it grew as loud and as genuine as Ian's. _

_ When they both calmed down, Ian straightened in his chair. He was heartened by the young man's smile and what looked like gratefulness in his eyes. It was almost as though he wasn't expecting Ian to be so kind or genuine. It saddened Ian a little but he didn't show it. _

_"So," he said to the young man. "You want some help? I did okay in Calculus. I'm no math whiz but I think I can get you at least B material. I'm Ian." He held his hand out to the young man to shake and he gladly accepted. Ian noticed that the young man's eyes brightened at the genuine offer of friendship. Ian felt a sadness, a loneliness from the young man and knew what that was like. As their eyes locked, Ian felt as though he had found the other half of his soul. He knew, right then, that the two of them were going to be close._

***********************************

He had felt so comfortable with Henry, like he could be himself and not be insulted or bullied. He never had that with his foster brothers. Henry was so like Ian when it came to his morals and his sense of justice that Ian felt so connected with Henry on a deep level.

The fact that Henry was the companion in his dreams only solidified Ian's feelings. The other night, he had finally come to a decision. He would tell Henry about the dreams and the nightmare. If Henry was in his dreams, did that mean that Henry had them too? Or was this merely a figment of his imagination? Either way, Ian knew Henry would listen without a criticizing mind. Henry would listen to him and take him seriously. But Ian had to tell him.

The only real problem was how to tell Henry. Ian wanted to do this in one fell swoop. He didn't think that he could do it again if Henry interrupted in 'Mother-Hen-Overdrive' Mode and that was exactly what Ian was afraid of. That was something Ian did not need. Sometimes, Henry was too overprotective of Ian. _Who wouldn't be overprotective, with a family like Henry's? The world's nosiest busybodies_. Ian would be overprotective and paranoid too.

Ian frowned a bit at that last thought. He had never met Henry's foster family. Though Ian kept in contact with his sisters, Henry had never again seen or heard from his foster family. How could they be nosy busybodies? It didn't make sense. He shook his head clear of the thought. He still had to figure out a way to tell Henry.

Please R&R. No flames! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry it's been taking so long. I'm back in college and already swamped. I'll try to have my other stories updated within a week! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter Five

By the time it was dusk, Ian was driving. His thoughts were still in turmoil over how to discuss his nightmare and his dreams with Henry. He just sat there in silence with his best friend. They would do this often; merely sit in each other's presence, comforted by the other. Ian kept his eyes firmly on the road as he thought out his dilemma. Henry, however, kept switching his gaze from the road to Ian, then back to the road, then back to Ian again. His hand was twitching slightly and he looked restless.

Suddenly Ian took a deep breath and nodded, as though deciding something. He pulled over onto the side of the road. The highway they were on was empty, and only a few sparse trees were on either side of the road. Neither man knew where they were, but at the moment Ian didn't care. He pulled over and turned off the car. He slumped in his seat and ran his hands through his hair.

Henry looked over at Ian in confusion. "Ian, what's going on?"

Ian still kept his eyes on the road before them. "Henry, I have to tell you something; something important."

Henry nodded. "You know you can tell me anything buddy."

Ian sighed. "Yeah I know. But this may take a while and it is important that you let me do it." He turned to face Henry. "No interruptions, no questions. Because if you stop me, I don't think I'll be able to do this again."

Inwardly Henry tensed. Ian rarely got this serious. What was this about? Then a horrifying thought came to him. The dreams? The nightmare? Gulping, Henry nodded. He could feel how important this was to his best friend.

Ian gave his best friend a small smile before turning his gaze back to the road. Henry sat back in his seat, unconsciously clenching the seat in a nervous habit. Then Ian took a deep breath and starting speaking. "Remember in the karaoke club a few days ago, when you said that I looked as though I hadn't slept in days? Well it's partially true. I haven't been getting much sleep lately and it is because of this nightmare I have been having."

Henry's gut clenched and his face paled. How long had Ian been having this nightmare? Just guessing made him feel sick.

Ian was still keeping his eyes on the road, so he missed Henry's expression. "I started having it a few days before we decided to go on this road trip. I don't have it every night, but each time I do I wake up screaming. It starts off in a temple. The sun is eclipsed and there is a demon in black robes about to sacrifice someone." Ian hesitated a bit. He didn't want to reveal Henry's role in his dreams and the nightmare just yet. "Then someone charges at the demon and fights with him. I free the woman from the alter and fight back the guards who try to stop me.

"The guy with me, the other warrior, fights back the demon. But then it uses its powers to levitate this dagger and make it fly across the room towards the woman. I scream and next thing I know I'm flying back onto the dais, the dagger imbedded in my chest. I'm dying, but I can feel the pain and suffering I'm causing to my friend. Then I die. All I can remember after that is an abyss, an endless pit of darkness. That's when I wake up screaming.

"But that part, where I die, that is the worst. Because I know this person, who is my partner and the fact that I am causing him this pain tears at my soul. Normally I could never see his face. I know him, but his identity is just out of reach."

Ian ran his hand over his face, breathing hard to stop the tears from falling. Henry was shaking slightly in his seat. His knuckles were white and he couldn't breathe.

"I had it again last night." Ian said; his voice low. "And it was worse than before. The scenario was the same. I died. But this time, as I was dying the face of my partner began to change, until it was you staring back at me." Henry's eyes widened. "That itself was worse than the abyss. Every time I have the nightmare I wake up screaming, more from the pain I caused you than the abyss."

_No. Dear God, no. _He had hoped against all odds that his gut had been wrong, just this once. What was going on with them? Why were they being plagued with a horrendous nightmare? Where they connected to the dreams? What in hell was going on?

Please Read and Review! Reviews are like candy. I like candy. I always accept constructive criticism. Flamers I typically feed to Cerberus.


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